Pleasure Notes

It rained last week, which I took as an excuse to barricade myself in my house. For days an entire day. I finally unchained my door to admit a friend who came bearing food and dvds. I got so crazy as to open up a can of soup that had been in the cupboard since 2002 instead of venturing out into the weather, finally understanding the true benefit of canned goods. I can only imagine the extremes to which people on the other coast have resorted to avoid the elements.

By Friday, my body was screaming to my mind, DO SOMETHING! MOVE!

I looked out the window, debating my choices.

by Agnes the Red/flickr

The forecast had predicted it would rain again. The sky was dark and cloudy. I was sleep deprived; the roar of downpours had kept me up half the night. I figured I had every reason not to twitch off the couch, much less stick my neck out into the world at large.

My body’s screaming got LOUDER!

I decided to risk the dangers inherent in venturing onto local roads during inclement moments; Los Angeles drivers transform into veritable drama queens when water darkens our asphalt.

I headed to the lake.

On the way to my habitual meditative retreat from urban chaos, a large raindrop shattered onto the surface of my windshield. It immediately became a civilization of droplets. I was struck by the pattern. Then I thought, I should turn back… But it’s only a drop… Another drop fell, a smaller one.

When was the last time you were soaked by the rain?

I realized I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened to me. My heart started beating a bit faster, in anticipation. Why not embrace the possibility of an experience I usually take pains to avoid?

I decided that if the skies should open up and drench me in harmless water acid rain, I would welcome it as an adventure.

The skies held their tears.

Instead, I shed some of my own. In awe.

The LIGHT took my breath away.

It was spectacular – crisp and flat. It transformed the glories of a three-dimensional world into a fanciful pop-up book of layers – the dew-dropped grasses sharply carved out and laid flat in front of the water, in front of the trees, in front of the tower, in front of the mountain, in front of the clouds.

Everything appeared new and special.

by chrislagarto/flickr

Then the crickets exploded into symphony, clearly rejoicing in the dampened earth and the scent of life that a hard rain brings to this town. I understood. And I was suddenly reminded of something I’d forgotten while slouched on my couch, obsessed with my navel…

Nature is my god. It never fails to restore me to my purest self.

When I make that connection, all other connections are possible. And I am happy.

What do you discover when you leave the house?

Carrie Basket designed by Mary Louise Gustafsson

Summer is in full swing. Today marks the beginning of a holiday weekend. The weather is perfect for picnics and bike rides. What better accessory than this adorable and functional Carrie Basket? Designed by another one of those brilliant Swedish designers, this basket can be attached to the front of your bicycle or, using the strap, slung over your shoulder as you peruse the weekend Farmers’ Market for festive edibles.

It is available in white, black and green. What I like most about it is how the filigree detailing adds a flirty accent to what can be just a boring, utilitarian item. Now I just have to get myself a bike… and the courage to ride it on LA streets.

Price: $65.00. Available at Scandinavian Grace and other fine contemporary furniture and design studios.

Looking on the Bright Side

I live in Southern California. Every single year, we are confronted with what the weatherman kindly refers to as “June Gloom” – days of grey skies and drizzle reminiscent of that which Oregonians must suffer through for most of their lives. Every single year, I forget this. And every single year, I am completely affronted by nature’s decision to hide the sun.

Today, in fact, is the first day all month during which the sun dispelled the clouds completely. It’s been a glorious day – a nice little treat for everyone celebrating Father’s Day around here. The fine weather has me wanting to emerge from hibernation. My brain starts clicking again. I begin pondering life, particularly my life, as if I’m being introduced to it for the first time.

I wonder, why is it that I am affronted by “June Gloom”? Expanding upon that, why am I caught off guard by phenomena which I’ve previously experienced and therefore should expect, or avoid, next time they come around?

As soon as it stops raining, I forget that it ever rains in Los Angeles. As soon as I become involved with a new guy, I forget the red flags I learned to identify through the last relationship. As soon as I see that yummy caramel corn at the movie theatre, I forget that I always feel sick after eating it.

Now, this faulty memory doesn’t just make me forget the bad. I frequently forget the good too.

I never remember that I feel incompetent at the start of every new job, but then get over it. I never remember that waking up early to take a hike leaves me more alert than stealing that extra hour of sleep. I never remember that the load of laundry or sink full of dishes which I’m avoiding will only take five minutes to address.

Why is it, do you think, that we (I know I’m not alone on this) approach repeat situations as if we are facing them for the very first time?

Tell me, what do you always forget, no matter how many times you are met by it?

February is the shortest month of the year, and there’s a Holiday Weekend stuck in there, so you’d think it would be the busiest and best month too. Unfortunately, February is also the rainiest month, at least in Southern California, and prolonged rain makes me go stark raving mad. Clinically. Then, there’s that little economic problem to deal with. Unless you were on a cruise to Antarctica for the past 28 days, you already know the Stock Market decided to commit seppuku, and the Dow is down 11.72% for the month. Don’t you wish you’d spent February getting sea sick and taking pictures of penguins? So, this month, perhaps more than any other, it is vital for me to highlight some moments that brought me pleasure.

1. New Glasses. I was one of those kids who sported braces and fish-eye glasses, which then morphed into very classy, graduated-shading, bug-eyed lens, and finally to the social status-reviving freedom of contacts. When I got Lasik about 10 years ago, it was the coolest thing ever. I could see the alarm clock from the bed. I could recognize people on the street before I walked past them. I could distinguish the difference between dolphins and sharks prior to inducing a panic attack. So, when my Optometrist recently recommended that I get myself some prescription lens for night driving and movie viewing, you’d think I’d feel dismay. Instead, I got super excited. I successfully ignored the fact that this purchase would be an expense for which I hadn’t budgeted, and that the need for lens might be construed as indicative of my advancing age. Instead, I saw this as the perfect opportunity to play dress up. Since I don’t have to wear them all the time, these new glasses get to be an accessory… I decided to go with the sexy geek look. It works for me. And, yes, I can see the traffic at night now too. Lots of cars out there.
2. Scrabble with Dad. My pops made an appearance in Hollywood to spend some quality time with me. A short but sweet visit. And, as usual, he beat the pants off me at Scrabble. I rarely win the damn thing – for which I convincingly blame bad luck letter draws – but I still love this word game. So much, in fact, that if Scrabbulous was still around, you might find me on FB more often. Those cute little wooden squares are simply irresistible.
3. Duncan Sheik. If you’ve heard his music, and listened to the lyrics, you’ll know this munchkin of a man is clearly the love child of David Lynch and Tim Burton. The dude goes to some seriously dark and twisted places, surrounded by beautiful melodies. His latest concept album, Whisper House, is about a little boy who is dumped at a lighthouse to be terrorized by ghosts after his father dies and his mother has a breakdown. Cool shit. He played at the Echoplex in Los Angeles recently. I won tickets to the show – how fantastic is that! – from KCRW, my fave music dispensary and the sponsoring radio station. Damn, but there’s not much better than listening to good music, live, with a Newcastle in hand, and money still in your pocket.
4. Sycamore Cove. About 15 miles north of Malibu on the PCH, this pristine beach is just far enough away that I’d never visited it before. A travesty! On the late February day I finally went, dolphins frolicked just outside the break, huge pieces of driftwood made me ache for a camera, and only five other people were visible along the entire stretch of sand. Great hiking trails were waiting for us on the other side of the road, in Point Mugu State Park, but I’ll be going back to get my toes wet.
5. Abandoning Arrowhead. This may seem like a random event to highlight as particularly pleasurable, but it’s sort of a big deal for me. You see, I’ve had Arrowhead Water delivered to my house for years now. There is a myth in Los Angeles that the tap water will kill you, or at least make you look your age. Increasingly, however, I’ve been wanting to do my part to curb global warming, etc., and it’s been harder and harder to ignore the facts about how much damage the bottled water industry creates. But I’m a creature of habit. And I prefer to drink my water out of bottles – yes, I know Freud would have a field day with me but, really, the bottle issue is only the tip of the iceberg. So I’ve been very reluctant to try anything else. In addition, the last time I got a bee in my bonnet about all this, I went out and bought a Brita Filter for my faucet and the damn thing didn’t fit. But the Arrowhead Mountain Spring Water Company did for me what I could not do for myself. They screwed up on two consecutive deliveries. So I kicked them to the curb, got myself a Brita Pitcher, and crossed one more expense off my “potentially expendable” list. Yippee for me!

As I said, it’s a short month. It’s fitting, then, that this be a short list. Many other truly pleasurable things happened this month. And the torrential rain finally stopped. Honestly, looking back, I wouldn’t have wanted the last 28 days any other way than the way I got them.

So that’s my February. How was yours?

January has come to an end; it flew by in such a flash. I felt the same loss of time last year. Some would say I’m just getting older, but I defy those people. Besides, as my friend Egan will attest, I’m only 23. No. This time-warp phenomenon is simply due to a lack of focus. My mind is always going a mile a minute, usually in the direction of doomsday scenarios or sex or why people insist upon SuperPoking me on Facebook despite my abhorrence for the practice. There’s just not enough brain space in which to remember things, particularly the truly pleasurable things in life. Ask me about a natural disaster or my last break-up, and I can recount everything to the minutest detail. But otherwise, I will emphatically claim that nothing has happened and I’ve done nothing of interest. When I wrote 2008: Most Pleasurables last month, I finally embraced the idea, in a public forum, that my perception of the past is truly flawed. And hey, that’s a super cool relief! So I’ve decided to institute Most Pleasurables lists on a monthly basis. Because no matter how crazy the world gets out there, the pursuit of pleasure is why I’m here.

1. The inauguration of Barack Obama. Duh. That may be the highlight of the century, certainly the decade. I think you all know how I feel about it.
2. A new haircut. I freely acknowledge that I’m a high-maintenance gal, except when it comes to my hair. It’s the one place I actually might benefit from being a little more high-maintenance. I simply can’t be bothered. Which is why I go to the Vidal Sassoon Academy for a 21 dollar cut rather than shelling out the hundred bucks like I used to do. A trip to the Academy, while being a smart fiscal choice, can be traumatic. These are students, after all, with very sharp scissors. But this time, I walked in resembling a damp, mildewed, cloth mop and left looking… well… like a dry, clean, cloth mop, with layers.
3. Warm weather. Yep, I’m going to gloat a bit about living in Los Angeles. We do not get ice storms. We do not have to throw out our backs while shoveling snow. We wear scarves, hats, and gloves as accessories, not as life preservers. This January, the coldest overnight temperature was 41 degrees, for a few hours, one night. We had highs in the 80s almost half the month. It was 88 degrees on January 12^th. Now I’m sure this is all due to global warming, and it’s causing catastrophic environmental damage or something, but damn it gives me pleasure. And a wee bit of a tan.
4. Mom’s visit. As you get to know me more, you’ll realize how utterly remarkable it is for me to include this in a Most Pleasurables list. Like that of many mothers and daughters, my relationship with my mom is complicated and there have been many moments of high drama. This was the first visit in a very, very, very long time during which there was not a single argument. To top that, I had a fucking ball; I had a girls’ weekend in L.A. with my mom (and her best friend). To my chagrin, it is the first time I was able to fully see my mom removed from her “mother” persona, and I really liked her. I feel like a huge shift in our relationship just happened, one I didn’t even know was possible. I’m grateful, optimistic, and looking forward to the next time I see her.
5. A job. Not a small thing, people. The U.S. Chamber of Commerce claims that 2.6 million jobs were lost in 2008. Forbes Magazine estimates 162,962 jobs, in just the top 500 American companies, disappeared in January. How could the fact that I have a job not bring me profound pleasure at this moment in time?
6. Strengthening friendships. I am lucky. I have a lot of friends. I have a lot of comrades too. Now, I don’t mean that in a red-shirt kind of way. I’m talking about phenomenally awesome folks who are programmed into my blackberry but who I see only irregularly and usually in a group setting. These are the men and women with whom I’m constantly making vague plans, wanting to reach that next level of friendship, the one where, no matter what kind of mood I’m in or they are in when the phone rings, I answer the call. This month, for whatever reason, those vague plans transformed into activities and my friendships, new and old, are flourishing.
7. Not having to bury my cat. I’m still a little shocked that I’ve transmuted into a cat person, but this month proved the metamorphosis is complete. My cat caught some ghastly bacterium that is chowing down on her liver. Many cats die from the infection. Bella, thankfully, has not. She’s still on antibiotics and not completely out of the woods quite yet, but the vet is hopeful. So rather than having to put her to sleep (the cat, not the vet), I still get to spoil her rotten which, you may have guessed, is entirely pleasurable.

So that’s my January. How was yours?